


Death Scares Everyone, Even Someone Who's Already Died A Thousand Times

by Natileroxs



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Homestuck, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Death, Gen, Temporary Character Death, What am I doing, Why Did I Write This?, but death that is not heroic nor just, i have so many fics to write, poor Dave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-08 19:00:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17391890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natileroxs/pseuds/Natileroxs
Summary: The dead body of a teenage boy lie in front of Stephen and he hated the fact that he couldn't do a single thing to help. The poor kid had broken his neck falling out a window.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't even ask why I don't know. It just came to me while I was watching speedpaints and then clips of Doctor Strange.

Stephen had simply been on a trip to get lunch, walking rather than using his sling ring. He needed time to think. New York never quietened, it was alive all day and all night. But it was an unusually dull day, nothing out of the ordinary happening, which itself was unordinary. But Stephen refused to question it, yet the irregular peace be disrupted. 

 

Unfortunately, he had this habit of jinxing himself. Above him, he heard glass smash and then a body smacked its head against the sidewalk and the sound made even Stephen wince. Immediately he went to work, checking over the body for any sign of life. 

 

It was a boy who couldn’t be any older than sixteen. He had ashy blonde hair and pale skin, with crimson eyes frozen in a petrified stare. His clothing was soft and breathable, various shades of red from his hood and cape to his ankle-length pants. The boy lay on his side, due to the blade prodding out his back, the hilt pressing against his chest. His skin was littered with scratches from the glass and blood trailed down his chin and dripped onto his over shirt. 

 

To say Stephen was shocked was an understatement, but he knew his duty. He checked the boy’s chest wound before taking a look at his neck and head. And yep, he was dead. A sixteen-year-old boy had been stabbed and then pushed out a window to end his life by breaking his neck, his last moments spent in terrified, silent horror, imagining the state he currently was in. 

 

Fury rose in the sorcerer as he took in the unfairness and cruelty of it all. But he pushed it down, picked the boy up in his arms and created a gateway to the sanctum, no reason to scare the public with the dead body of a scared teenage boy. Laying the boy back down on the floor of the New York sanctum, Stephen mourned for a second. Just as he was about to call out for Wong, he heard the strangest noise. 

 

Breathing. 

 

Breathing coming from the dead body on the ground. And not even the release of air, honest to god full breaths. And then coughing. Stephen turned back to the body to see the boy coughing while cracking his neck back into place, horror creeping onto his face as he looked at the sword stabbed right through him, and the expression only became worse when he met Stephen’s gaze. 

 

“Fu-” He cut off coughing, more blood pouring from his mouth. “S-sword. Get it- get it out!” He waved his hands about wildly, uncoordinated and dizzying. Stephen knelt down and with the boy’s help, he tore the sword out of his body. Everything in the sorcerer's mind was telling him, ‘no, no, don’t do that. It’ll kill him.’ He found himself following the boy’s command anyway. 

 

Holding one hand over his wound and the other gripping tightly to the hilt of the sword, the boy went to stand. Stephen forced him downwards. The boy sent him a scowl but complied and stayed sitting on the floor. The sorcerer watched as the blood flow coming from his stomach slowed and then stopped. The boy drew his hand away from his chest and then wiped the blood off his hands onto his pants before standing, the sword now lying on the ground. 

Stephen starred as the bloodstains disappeared and his shirt knitted itself back together. The boy then brushed his fingers across his face and huffed, though he still shook slightly. 

 

“Tossed out a window… that-that’s a new one.” He sounded thoroughly shaken and Stephen couldn’t blame him. The boy straightened himself, schooling his expression. “I’m Dave. Dave Strider.”

 

The newly named Dave studied him for a second and Stephen nodded. “Dr. Stephen Strange.”  

 

“Doctor?” 

 

“Yes.”

 

“You didn’t see a pair of sick shades when you found me, did you?” Dave asked, sticking his hands into suddenly appearing in his pants. Stephen thought back and then shook his head. Dave looked disappointed but not surprised. He then looked a little nervous. Or, Stephen could see the nervousness in his eyes, but the rest of his face was even. Curious. A few other things were very curious about the boy, but no, Stephen was  _ not _ thinking about that right now.

 

“So, where are we?”

 

“The New York Sanctum.” 

 

“We’re in New York?” Dave then looked surprised. 

 

“We are, yes.” Stephen nodded in the direction where he knew they could sit and talk properly. Dave followed him. Once seated, Stephen looked at him expectantly. When Dave began to pointedly look away, Stephen cleared his throat. 

 

“Are you going to explain, or not.” 

 

“Right.” Dave took a deep breath. “It’s called conditional immortality, it’s one of the perks of being a god.”

 

While on the outside the sorcerer kept an expression of slight surprise, inside he was truly rattled. And also intrigued. Here was a boy, a sixteen-year-old albino boy who wore a short sleeve over a long sleeve and a silly cape and was so reliant on the pair of sunglasses currently missing from his face, to keep his emotions hidden. And yet, he healed from a broken neck and a sword stabbed right into his chest and spoke of being a god. 

 

“I’d love to hear more.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want more, tell me. I'll do it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, I got so many requests for another chapter. I hope this sates all you people who asked. Idk if it's any good.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who commented and left kudos.

“As would I,” Dave smirked. He motioned to the room and shook his head at Stephen’s confusion. “The ‘New York’ I am currently in.  Last thing I saw was a sandy desert and a…” He choked on his words and cut off. He then took a minute to gather himself. “Anyway, tell me about yourself and this world. Then we can get on with the other shit.”

 

Stephen raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms before sighing. “I am the protector of the New York Sanctum and a master of the mystic arts.” Dave let out a chuckle, shifting in his seat to get comfortable. 

 

“A sorcerer, huh? My sister practices magic quite a bit.” He stretched his hands a little. “Maybe you could give her some tips, or she could you?” Stephen hummed. 

  
“Sister?” 

 

Dave didn’t answer his one-worded question. Instead, he reached forward and pointed at Stephen’s chest, or more specifically, what hung around his neck. The Eye of Agamotto. 

 

“What’s that?”

 

“This is a powerful object, one that can control time.” Dave’s eyes widened. 

 

“Time?” He laughed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Just my luck I get a time wizard as a guide in this new fucking world.” Dave kept laughing. Stephen stared at him.

 

“What?”

 

Dave rubbed his hands over his face for a moment. “You don’t get it, do you.” He let a small curl of a grin pull at his lips. “I,” He motioned to himself. “Am a  _ god _ of  _ TIME _ .” 

 

Stephen clutched the chain around his neck unconsciously. Dave stood, striding away. Stephen followed curiously. 

 

The boy slipped through corridors and ducked through doorways until he found a door. “Library?” He took Stephen’s confusion as a yes and spun the handle, clicking it open. As Stephen entered the library and in turn Kamar-Taj. Wong looked over at the two of them but Dave paid neither Wong nor Stephen attention, flicking through books. He dusted off the locks with a single gentle touch and pulled book after book out. 

 

“Here,” He mumbled, stopping on a page. He waved Stephen over and the sorcerer peered down to what Dave was gesturing at. A circle of symbols Stephen vaguely recognised covered the page. Wong came over to them as well, ignoring the fact the boy was a complete stranger and nodded. 

 

“The twelve aspects.”

 

“Yes!” Dave smirked, trailing his finger around the circle slowly as he spoke, starting from the top and going clockwise. “Breath, Life, Light, Time. Heart, Rage, Blood and Doom. Then, Void, Space, Mind and finally Hope.” Wong looked impressed. Stephen was just more confused. Dave then elaborated. “Every aspect is paired with a class, Knight, Mage, Witch, Prince. Or Maid, Thief, Heir, Seer. Sylph, Bard, Page or Rogue. Rarely Lord or Muse.” 

 

“A class paired with an aspect makes up a god tier.” Wong finished him off. 

 

“Like a Knight of Time.” Dave pointed to himself. Finally, it made sense. Stephen noted to read up on the aspects and classes later. Wong narrowed his eyes. Stephen sighed. 

 

“Dave, Wong. Wong, Dave.” He gestured between the two and Dave held out his hand. Wong shook it, still uncertain. 

 

“So, anyway, you guys are sorcerers and that means you are probably able to help me, right? Help me find my way in this world, and help me find my friends.” Dave placed the book down on a table and made his way back to the New York Sanctum. “‘Cause I really need them. And my damn shades back. Maybe Roxy could make me some.”

 

Stephen again followed. The boy walked around to the front door, eyes flickering to take in the whole place around him. The wood underfoot, the objects surrounding him. His feet appeared to hover an inch above the ground but Stephen was sure he was just imagining that. 

 

“You’re the Knight of Time?” 

 

He nodded. “You should read that book in your spare time.” 

 

“I was planning to.”

 

“Good.” Dave placed his foot down on the floor - he had been floating - and reached his hand up to his face, as if to adjust a pair of glasses, before cursing. “Okay, I need to find my friends or at least a pair of fucking shades.” 

 

“If you’re that reliant on shades,” Dave paused in his door opening. “Then you might not want to go out into the sun with quite possibly sensitive eyes.” Stephen pointed out and Dave scrunched up his nose in annoyance before again schooling his expression. He seemed to do that a lot. Stephen wasn’t a psychiatrist but he even he could see there was definitely something wrong with that fact. 

 

“Shit, so what?” He stepped away from the door. “You don’t happen to have some on hand, do you?” 

 

“Afraid not.”

 

“Fuck.”

 

“I have something else though,” He made a circle in the air and, using his sling ring, made a doorway to a very helpful person’s living room. Dave came over, genuinely surprised and impressed. “Someone who can help.” 

 

Dave grinned and looped his arm around Stephen’s, pulling him in. “Come on then, Doc.”

 

Stephen shook his head. Dave smirked. “And, you should teach me that trick.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the end, but I may pick it up again later on if inspiration strikes.


End file.
